a furious air and neighborhood destruction– somebody’s lost pet

haiku are headlines reporting mother nature the insight stories

The archer aims, hoping it is true. The arrow flies. Is the eye hit new?

here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...

dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.

Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.

Coffee perks in the pot. It heats to perfection. Come, we commune with our cups of coffee.

I went to Coin Lent to get some money pumped. But all my cash I spent, and all my cred was dumped.

I huffed my ego, by pouring me into it– She popped my balloon.

Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.

winter mirror mysterious prints at crosstime junction

sky shapeshifters take infinite forms on the azure canvas.

Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.

Broken by the vampires who suck life from souls with minimums that keep tires spinning in muck.

got my surfboard out and rode the photon waves: googled out!